Michele E. Gwynn's Blog, page 32

Coming Soon! New Erotic Suspense from Author Michele Gwynn

Teaser cover: Image Credit M. Gwynn All Rights Reserved
Are you ready for a new erotic suspense?  Coming soon (August 2014) is my latest novel, The Education of Sarah Brown.

A departure from my love of science fiction, TESB has been in the works off and on since 2009.  The story takes readers from San Antonio, Texas, to Europe where Sarah Brown seeks out adventures of an erotic nature to satisfy her long-oppressed sexuality.  Stifled for years caring for a terminally ill mother, she suddenly finds herself free to go anywhere, be who she wishes to be.  Her desires lead her through Barcelona, Spain, and into Berlin where she unintentionally becomes entangled in a dangerous relationship between Paul Christiansen and his uncle, Peter Knudson.  In between, she meets and falls for travel photographer and guide book author, Anthony de Luca, who is committed to remaining noncommittal.  As Sarah sheds her inhibitions and discovers who she is and what she wants, she gets closer and closer to danger that threatens to destroy all she holds dear.

Stay tuned for launch dates and promotion specials here!  In the meantime, enjoy this teaser.

Thanks for all your support!  Love, M.E. Gwynn

The Education of Sarah Brown


PrologueBerlin, GermanyFall, 2013
He was beautiful.  Absolutely the embodiment of divine creation with his golden curls, blue eyes, and the promise of perfect cheekbones beneath a touch of what people refer to as lingering baby fat.  It wasn’t fat, per se, but the roundness of youth on the boy’s face that would fade away in another year or so.  At fourteen, he was angelic.  Striking. One could almost see the bones stretching and growing like a young sapling that would one day be a mighty oak tree.  For now, they lacked the musculature of a grown man.  The limbs were long and the back, straight.  His blue eyes sparkled when he laughed and were fringed with dark, thick blonde lashes.  His cheeks were painted naturally with two spots of color, and his lips, as they spread across his face with a hearty laugh, were lush and full.  Even his teeth were pearly white.  Perfection. 
The very sight of him took the man’s breath away. 
The boy was tossing a ball to a young woman with red hair.  She was older, a sister.  Just as lovely and striking, but not so much as the boy.  The man watched as the two played a game of catch in the park.  He had come to this park every day in the last two weeks since he first sighted the glorious creature.  On the third day, they returned with a Frisbee and a picnic lunch.  He followed them that day as he did today.  They left, and the man followed walking far enough behind not to be noticed, casually swinging his cane as if enjoying an afternoon stroll.
They lived in an old, faded yellow apartment building with too many units to discover which one was theirs.  He waited.  Two hours later, she left carrying a black duffel bag over her shoulder.  He followed her for four blocks where she took the stairs down to the tube and hopped a car that took them deep into the industrial center of the city.  Tourists didn’t frequent this side of Berlin.  Here, native Berliners came out to party at the clubs and to indulge themselves in the bars.  Then there were the others who blended into the hip party crowd, but slipped down back alley staircases to a world most didn’t know existed.  That’s where she went now without hesitation.
He waited, then followed.  The staircase led to a steel door painted black.  The logo at eye level was three large letters –XXX - painted red.  Above those in bright neon yellow were the words ‘Club Sexo’.  He went inside and was greeted by a glass-enclosed ticket booth which contained a dark-haired man wearing a leather collar with metal studs and no shirt sitting behind the counter.  To the left was a door, but it was closed. 
“You have an appointment?” he asked.
“No.  No I don’t.”  The man stood there looking at the list of club rules hanging on the wall behind the host in the ticket booth. 
“You have to have an appointment.”  Shirtless pointed at the rules behind him.  Sure enough, that was rule number one.
“How do I make an appointment?” the man asked. 
Shirtless gave an assessing glance to the man in the suit.  He noted he dressed well; seemed distinguished, even, with his groomed white goatee and hair accented by still-dark eyebrows above cold blue eyes.  His accent wasn’t quite German; more like Dutch.  Still, he looked much like the caliber of men who came and went nightly.
“You go online to this website”, he handed him a business card through the dip under the glass where tickets are usually presented.  “Pick who you wish to see, whatever your particular thing is.  All our Dommes have bios that describe their specialties.  We take all major credit cards, and you pay up front online before walking through that door.  The charge shows up as CX3 LLC to protect your privacy.  Once your appointment is made, you’ll receive a confirmation email or text, your choice, and you just show up.  Oh, and no refunds.”
“Thank you.”  The man took the card and put it in his inside breast pocket.  He tipped his hat and left.
He made his way back to the UBahn in the quickly falling temperature and found the tube heading back towards the side of town where he was staying.  Back in his room, he shed his suit jacket and pulled the card out of the pocket.  He set down his cap and cane next to the jacket.  Sitting on the edge of his bed, he pulled out his mobile and surfed the internet for the website on the card.  
The splash page asked him if he was over eighteen and to press ‘Continue’ to indicate he was, and that he accepted the rules for the site.  He chuckled to himself.  Beyond the firewall was an About Us section and an icon for “Our Talent”.  He tapped that key.  Several images popped up of women in various bondage costumes looking alternately fierce and sexy.  He found them amusing.  Scrolling through, one image stood out.  A red-haired woman in red lace bra and panties wearing thigh high red leather boots.  She had a red leather riding crop in her hands and appeared to be smacking it on her palm suggestively.  Mistress Elsa, it said. 
He tapped her image and her bio sprang up.  Mistress Elsa is an experienced Domme in the art of bondage for beginners to professional submissives to include extreme roping. Mistress Elsa will bind you, beat you, and/or humiliate you.  Your pain is her pleasure.  Make your appointment today.
The man smiled.  He changed screens to NOTES and typed.  Message saved, he put the card into his wallet and tossed it onto the bedside table.  He thought about the boy and young woman.  His thoughts went to dark places.  Feeling edgy, he got up and picked up his jacket swinging it over his shoulders and sliding his arms in.  He grabbed his cane and cap.  Walking towards the door, he checked his breast pocket for his room key card.  Satisfied it was there, he left. 
Out on the street, he turned right and headed toward the tube station.  A ten minute ride south and he was stepping onto the platform.  He pulled his coat tighter around him.  The night air was cool in September.  Up the stairs and onto the street the wind met him head on.  This was not a decent side of town.  This was a slightly seedier area of Berlin but right on the edge of the best tourist spots.  Here, prostitutes plied their trade.  Women from Eastern Europe ended up here brought in by sex traffickers.  Most were strung out on drugs.  They looked dirty, ragged, and pathetic, old before their time and used up.  The man walked past these women in their platforms heels and short bargain basement skirts as they called out to him. 
One block beyond were a few young hustlers.  Three of them.  One was a tall, skinny black boy with a shaved head.  His shoulders were broad and his arms muscular.  Not him.  The second one had dark hair and a feminine stance.  He smoked a cigarette while talking and gesturing wildly with his hands.  Italian.  No good.  And too many facial piercings.  The third one was more clean-cut with short blonde hair.  His jaw was square and he had a dimple in his chin.  He hadn’t yet quite filled out.  His limbs were slim and well-formed.  He wasn’t overly tall, either.  He looked about seventeen, maybe eighteen.  He would do.
He walked over and asked the young man for a cigarette.  The other two hustlers gave him the once over, noting the quality cut of his clothing, and looked envious.  They waved at their friend and moved off leaving him alone with the man.
 

New Paranormal Romance from Jami Brumfield

My friend and author, Jami Brumfield, has just released the first book in a new series, Mystery Springs - Unleashed, titled The Witch's Vampire .  Already an established author with the Winters Saga (Lone Wolf Rising, Vampire Princess Rising, and Fire Master Rising - due out soon), Brumfield has done it again!

She can create alternate worlds existing right under our noses in modern day society with ease.  This time, Sophie Waters has just been burdened with the shocking news that she is, as crazy as it sounds, a witch; and not just any witch, but the next in line to be the witch doctor of her small community of Mystery Springs.  Already reeling from the untimely death of mother from a long battle with cancer, Sophie discovers that despite her mother being the previous town witch doctor, she could not heal herself.  It just doesn't work that way.

Now her life is being turned upside down by an unknown nephilim trying to kidnap her, strange cloud people watching over her and threatening to kill her, and one hot, sexy vampire that is making her feel things she's never felt before.  But who can she trust?  And why are these supernatural beings here?

Download your copy today and learn the secret of the mythical Greek Gods, and why you should fear the dream weavers.  Available on Amazon.com.

Congratulations to Jami Brumfield for another amazing story.  

Down the rabbit hole with a keg of chili powder and Cookie

The strangest things happen to me.  Maybe they're ordinary to most, but once narrated through the filter of my thinking sponge, (my brain), and projected onto the screen of your imagination from my eyes (you're getting very sleepy...), these happenstances take on a surreal quality reminiscent of acid trips, Woodstock, and free love motoring down the highway in a daisy-covered mini-bus.  Such is the case of my latest little blog posting on Bubblews.  Too trippy by far and worthy of a moment's read.  It just proves that life, indeed, is stranger than fiction.

"Never a dull moment as it seems my local Chili's was the scene of a grand tea party hosted by the Mad Hatter, Tweedle-Dee and Tweedle-Dum, the Cheshire Cat, the Red Queen of Hearts, and Alice - all alive and well in wonderland and eating southwest eggrolls and bottomless guacamole bowls. Okay, they were people dressed as the C.S. Lewis characters for some function or other, but as I followed them down the rabbit hole, ordering my own guacamole and chips, I found myself wondering how 'mad' the Hatter must be to venture into a public restaurant in costume. I would be embarrassed. but then, that's just me.  Maybe he enjoys the attention.  Maybe he just didn't have time to get into character before the show, or perhaps he lacked a change of clothes after the show.  Who knows?

Feeling brave, I ordered a new dish - Mexican food that included a beef tostada, a green chili chicken enchilada, and a beef soft taco served with black beans and rice. Usually at Chili's, I order either the steak or the mixed fajitas (beef and chicken), but not this day. It seemed I was sitting in the right place for a new adventure. Indeed, it was all very unusual.

My food arrived and I was so hungry that I tore into the tostada gobbling it down quickly. Bad move! My mouth caught fire and my eyes watered as my nose began to run away. The supposed taco meat was all wrong - it tasted like someone tripped and dumped a giant container of chili powder into the meat. It just tasted like chili - no cumin, onion, or garlic to balance it out and make it taste like taco meat should taste - taco-ey. I choked. My stomach churned. I guzzled water and attempted to eat the green chili chicken enchilada; also very hot, and my tongue felt like Hindi Yogis were walking across hot coals embedded in my mouth. My eyes blurred with tears as someone turned the spigot on inside my nasal passages. "Please bring me more napkins!"

There was no reason to even think about the beef soft taco since it was filled with the same meat that was on the tostada. Oy! Why did I veer away from my tasty usual?  I could be blissfully chewing a delicious fajita topped with avocado, cheese, sour cream, and salsa with a big smile on my contented face.

I politely informed the manager when she came around to cheerily ask how things were that the taco meat was a chemical burn disaster worthy of Silkwood best tossed out before it got fed to anyone else. She went back to the kitchen, tried it, herself, and then came back to say they would take my dinner off the ticket because, indeed, the meat was too spicy, and I would have to strip down and be scrubbed raw to get the radiation off my skin. So, basically, I didn't have to pay for eating fire and swallowing magma.

Thank goodness for the molten cinnamon cake. Saved the day! Ice cream on top and cream cheese filling.  Oh, joy!  As I left feeling dinner wasn't a total loss, I heard someone say my name. "Michele?"

I turned around and came face to face with Cookie. Yes, his name is Cookie. Well, his name is Rudy, and he's a DPS Officer and a grown man, but to me and all others who grew up with him, he'll always be Cookie. Cookie was on his way to a daddy/daughter dance with his adorable little girl. As we caught up, I worried my chili powder keg, otherwise known as my stomach, might explode. Finally, we said our goodnights and I made it home in time for the revenge of the bad taco meat, Part Deaux.

There's no moral to this story except, perhaps, to understand that veering off the beaten path might lead a person into a big pile of ......chili-laden quicksand!... where Cheshire cats and card-sized queens might be watching you sink into a fire pit while they drink tea and eat guacamole; pinky out, of course.

Now if you'll forgive me, I'm late! I'm late, for a very important date...."

(All events described are true as there is nothing stranger in fiction than life.)

+AliceinWonderland
+Chili's
+editorial
+humor
+blog

Image source: alice-in-wonderland.net

Excellent Reviews for Harvest

Nothing makes an author happier than getting positive feedback from happy fans (except, maybe, coming up with an amazing new story idea).

This is what greeted me Sunday.  Many thanks to Brea Behn who has not only reviewed Harvest and seems to have enjoyed it, but also for inspiring the core story idea for Synthesis , my latest short story. Good news for Brea, the next two books in the Harvest trilogy are full length so she can really get lost in the story.



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Kindle Countdown Deal of the Day

Hello all!

Just a quick heads-up that my books, Harvest and The Cat Who Wanted to be a Reindeer are having a special Kindle Countdown Deal right NOW!

Download either book for only $0.99.  But hurry because that price will creep back up to the original Amazon.com download price over the next 24 hours. 

Love Sci-Fi?  Check out Harvest, an original short story inspired by a true event. 

"Human greed and gluttony can exist only so long before consequences catch up to actions. For Dave Forrester, the actions of every human living were about to be addressed in his home town of Farley, Oklahoma. A haunting memory from the past is about to become a nightmare. The people of Farley have disappeared without a trace. It's up to Dave to figure out why, and how to save the few that survive....the harvest."

And for the kids, a color illustrated tale that shows how important it is to love and accept who you are in The Cat Who Wanted to be a Reindeer , written in loving memory of my cats, Sam, Sophie, Emmie, and Moose-Edward.

"Sam is an ordinary house cat who dreams of being a reindeer and flying around the world with Santa Claus. Join Sam and his feline friends on his journey to discovering that dreams can come true, but only when one accepts who they truly are. Fully illustrated by the author."

It's a spring fling of reading fun.  Get 'em while they're hot!

Synthesis

Synthesis, original story from Michele E. Gwynn/ idea from author Brea Behn.

Part I
In 2039, the first green human was born.  It was a little boy, and he died within three days of birth.  After him, scientists tried again and again; ten more green humans who all perished despite the incredible care provided by specialized neonatal nurses.  By the eleventh, they figured it out (thanks to an intern who made an off-the-cuff observation). 
“Maybe the ‘greenies’ just need a little sunshine to thrive.”  She was right.  After that, they were kept in nurseries with skylights so they could have sunshine, and at night, they had special UV lights turned on overhead.  The nurseries became more like greenhouses, and the green babies grew like weeds, literally.
It would help to explain that green humans were a new hybrid created by biological scientists out of desperation for the continued survival of the human race.  Doctors and Botanists had come together to splice common plant genes that direct the process of photosynthesis into the DNA of a human embryo.  The experiments began after Co2 levels in earth’s atmosphere had risen to nearly suffocating levels following the collapse of the United Nations which allowed third world nations and others to pursue industrialization without any environmental regulations.  Pollution clogged the air, and the depletion of fossil fuels by greedy corporations had left our planet hollowed out, deforested, and destroyed as if a plague of locusts had come and devoured everything in their path leaving nothing behind.  
Unprepared, humans were left without a plan B to provide fuel, and people and animals began to perish.  All hell had broken loose and chaos and anarchy reigned.  This process of extinction was further accelerated as poison in the air fell to the ground in torrential rains thanks to radical climate change caused by industry.  The newly poisoned ground killed agricultural fields of wheat, corn, orchards, and farms that grew potatoes, lettuce, and more.  The world’s food supply dwindled fast, and emergency measures went into effect to grow food using hydroponics that used recycled and treated seawater in above-ground greenhouses.  The GMO industry stepped in; they claimed they could fix what was broken, but it soon became clear that it was these very businesses that were responsible for the massive amounts of poison that leached into the water cycle and killed our ability to grow food.  With no one buying their products, they went bankrupt.  It was really too bad this hadn’t happened much sooner.  Maybe then we all wouldn’t be where we are today; in a civil war between the endangered original humans and the greenies.  
I’m a greenie.  My name is Tiger Lily, and I’m twenty-three years old.  I’ve been living in a time of war all my life.  I’m a third generation greenie born of two second generation greenies.  That pretty much means I’m green.  As colors go, it’s a nice shade of green.  My eyes are a lovely swirl of brown, white, and orange, hence the reason for my name, Tiger Lily.  So what does it mean to be a greenie?  Just how are we different from original humans?
Well, for one thing, we breathe perfectly fine in the new earth atmosphere.  Like plants, we breathe in carbon dioxide and we exhale oxygen.  We can handle oxygen, too, but we’re acclimated to Co2.  We also make our food through photosynthesis which means we need at least six hours of sunlight a day.  The sun is the very best source of energy.  Yet again, it’s too bad humans waited so long to tap this source because a lot of needless deaths coulda been prevented.  
We do need water.  Just like a plant, we have to be watered to grow.  Okay, not watered.  We drink water like regular humans do, but water is scarce because it has to be treated to make it safe to ingest and Coca Cola and Pepsi both co-opted the business of treating water.  It’s expensive and not everyone can afford it.  Yea, that means water being a free commodity to all is now just another product produced by greedy corporations.  Greenies being so well-adapted to this new earth makes them employable and treated water is now part of an employee’s payment just like healthcare used to be.  
We can still eat like original humans, but we don’t need to.  It’s more like a luxury activity, and since food is so rare and so expensive, most greenies don’t bother.
But original humans are struggling, those that are still around to struggle.  They have to wear oxygen masks when they come up outside of their atmosphere-controlled dormitories.  All original humans that are left live in segregated dormitories built mostly underground.  They are dying down there, and their desperation drove a wedge between them and us leading to the Green War of 2078.  It’s now 2101 and I have no idea what old earth was ever actually like or how it is to live without war.  
In New World City, formerly known as Washington, DC, we’re surrounded by an army that defends the borders twenty-four hours a day.  Sometimes the borders are breached by the rebels who bomb city buildings so they can raid the hydroponic factories and steal water from Coke or Pepsi.  Other times, they organize and assassinate green leaders.  They used to use guns, but then discovered that some old-time weed killers were poisonous to our kind.  That’s when the war really heated up.
That’s where I came into it.  Trained to translate and interpret electronic messages intercepted from the rebel camps, I discovered one message from someone who calls himself “Stone”.  This ‘Stone’ referred to something called “Synthesis”.  No one at headquarters knows yet what this means, but it’s big.  It has to be because my higher ups are at this very moment in a closed-door meeting discussing it.  I can’t hear them, but I can see the major through the window gesturing wildly with his hands while the general just looks angry.   
“Lily!”  
Damnit.  I hate when my commander sneaks up behind me!
“Sir” Turning around and looking Commander Oakley in the eye.  Never let him see that he rattled me in any way.  “Any more intelligence to report?”  He seems to be saying more with his eyes, like “Well, did you read everyone’s lips while not actually working?”
“Nothing new to report, sir.”  I maintained steady eye contact.  He expects it although the fact that he never wins a stare-off with me really pisses him off.  Good.
“Your shift is up.  Clock out and head home.”  He dismisses me as quickly as he sneaks up on me.  I watch him walking away noting that he moves like someone with a large stick up his butt.  He has an inordinate amount of green pride.  That is, he thinks all greenies are a superior species.  Maybe we are and maybe we’re not, but either way, his attitude stinks.  He looks down on everyone which must be tough to do since he’s only 5’6” tall.  I’ve heard some of the older greenies say he has a Napoleon complex, but I don’t know who this Napoleon was so I can only assume he was a colossal ass.  
I log out of my computer, pick up my bag and head to check out.  As I clock out, I receive my key voucher for water.  I can fill up on my way home by driving through any one of the Pepsi or Coca Cola filling stations.  The sunshine on my skin feels like a warm, wet pool of wonderful as I walk to my vehicle.  I stop for a moment and stare up at the sky noting all the colors of the rainbow and then some.  Greenies can see ultraviolet rays.  There are no words on the books quite yet for the schism of colors beyond the rainbow that humans would understand, but greenies do.  
After a few moments of just soaking in the sun, I hop into my solar-powered hover-car with sun roof, of course.  Who doesn’t like to ‘eat’ while driving, right?  After pressing my thumb into the starter, the car hums and rises three feet off the ground.  I steer the left and right control grips towards the road home.  Traffic isn’t too bad yet, so it looks like it won’t be a long wait at the filling station. Angling into Pepsi-Co, I wait my turn.  Music fills the inside of my car as I toss my head back and absorb the rays.
“Keycard, Miss.”  The young teenage greenie working the line taps on my window.  
Rolling it down, I hand it over.  “Put it in the back, please.”  I reach down to pop the boot of the car.
Thankfully, he doesn’t take too long and loads the three large bottles of water in the boot.  It sure will feel good to bathe and drink up.
Ahead, three greenies are walking toward the station on foot.  What a ghastly shade of green they are!  They look sickly!  As they get closer, I see what appears to be tubes coming out from their noses, across their faces on the left and disappearing behind their backs.  Nasal cannulas.  They’re nasal cannulas.  What the hell?
Just then, the one in the middle throws his long overcoat back and pulls out a large gun.  It has a massive canister attached to the top and as he starts shooting, a fine spray arcs out raining down onto the teenage attendant and two other greenies standing outside of their vehicles.  They begin to gasp and reach for their throats, choking.  They go down.
The other two putrid-green men now have smaller handguns out and are shooting out the windows of the other cars in line.  The man with the big gun sprays through the broken glass.  It’s a slaughter.I try to maneuver my car around the vehicle in front of me that has paused; the driver is frozen in shock and horror as the rebels, for that is surely who they are – rebels in green-face wearing oxygen tubes so they can carry out their massacre – advance on the unarmed green citizens.
I make it around them and begin to drive away when one of the rebels jumps in front of my car and blasts a hole through my windshield.  What do I do?  
“Wait!”  The man with the big gun puts up his hand in a halting gesture to his compatriot.  I turn and our eyes meet.  He gestures for me to get out of the car. 
“No fucking way!” I shout.
“Get – out – of –your – car” he says slowly and deliberately.  His deep voice seems calm, but deadly.
Slowly and with shaking hands, I reach down and hit the door latch button.  It lifts up and I step out.  My legs feel weak, like they’ll give any moment, but I force myself to stand, lifting my chin in defiance.
The man walks to me seeming to grow taller than he already appears.  At about 6’5”, he towers over my meager 5’7” of height.  The sun glints off his dark brown hair revealing strands of deep auburn.  His eyes are blue and intense as he looks me up and down.  His jaw is strong, and cheekbones prominent; what one might call rugged, maybe even handsome if he weren’t covered in gross green paint and pointing a gun filled with deadly chemicals at me.
He reaches out a large hand and lifts a lock of my hair.  
“Red” he says.  “I always liked redheads.”  He walks slowly around and comes back to stand before me.  He has the nerve to smile if I can call it that.  It was more like a slight lift to the right side of lips.  Full lips.  What?  Wait!  So what.  Get it together, Lily.
“She’ll do.”  The other two men come up and grab my arms.
“Hey!  What the hell?  Let me go!”  I begin to fight in earnest, kicking and screaming, but there is no one to help me.  They’ve killed them all.  One of the men swings out and I hear the blue-eyed man yell at him to stop.  I catch a split second of a fist coming at me and then everything goes black.  
Part II
I feel sick.  “Where am I?” My words sound slurred and faint.
Available on Amazon.com“Sssh.  You’re going to be alright.”  A male voice gives assurance.  I slowly open my eyes and look around.  My breathing seems shallow.  I start to panic.
“Take it easy” says the deep voice.  I know that voice.  I turn my head and try to focus on the large blob standing about five feet away.  My eyes adjust and I notice there’s a partition of glass around me.  I’m lying in a hospital bed and as I try to raise my hand to my face, I realize I can’t.  My hands are restrained.
“Just relax.  We’re adjusting the atmosphere inside more to your body.  Take slow breaths.”
I try not to panic and begin focusing on my breathing.  After five breaths, I’m feeling a little better, breathing a bit easier.  A vent overhead is blowing and it feels wonderful; soothing.  Finally, I am breathing normally again.
“Where am I?”  I look and see the man who attacked me and my people at the Pepsi-Co station.  He’s not covered in green paint anymore.  His flesh is white and there’s stubble on his face.  He didn’t have stubble when last I saw him.  Time has passed, but how much?
“How long have I been here?”  I feel anger rising.
“About twelve hours now.  You gave us quite a scare.  I thought maybe Derek hit you too hard.  He won’t be doing that again.”  He stands with his hands behind his back and feet planted apart like a military general.
“Who the hell are you?  Why have you brought me here?  What do you want?”  The questions roll off my tongue faster than my brain can process it all.
“Woah!” he holds up one hand.  “That’s a lot of questions.  One at a time, okay, greenie?”
He paces a few feet away and picks up a folder.  He comes back and pulls up a stool on his side of the glass box.  Crossing his foot over his opposite knee, he opens the folder and lays it on his leg.  He pulls a pen out of his shirt pocket and, poised, looks at me.  
“Let’s start with some basics.  What’s your name, greenie?” 
“Why should I tell you?”  Yanking at the restraints, I glare at this man who has kidnapped me and murdered my people.
He looks unfazed.  “I can keep calling you ‘greenie’ if you like.  Matters not to me.”  He makes a note.
He looks straight at me, his blue eyes like lasers trying to see into my head.
I fall back on my training.  “Tiger Lily, Communications, two, five, seven, one.”  I stare at the ceiling.“Tiger Lily, eh?”  He smiles to himself and makes another note.  
“And what do I call you?  Murderer?”  Anger is rolling off of me in waves now.  My head hurts, I’ve been captured, and my hands are restrained while I’m trapped inside a glass atmosphere box.  I’m obviously in one of the original humans’ underground dormitories.  They are a controlled oxygen-rich atmosphere.  If I managed to get out of the wrist restraints and break out of my box, I’d risk passing out from lack of enough Co2.  I’d need a Co2 respirator just to escape.  Once outside, I’d be okay, but until I found my way out of their maze of tunnels, I’d be in danger.
“Stone.  My name is Stone.”  
I gasp.  It’s HIM.  “Stone?  What kind of name is that?”  I blast him with my anger.  Better that he doesn’t know I know anything about him; not that I know much. 
“What kind of name is Tiger Lily?  You know you’re named after a flower, right?”  He smirks.
“You know you’re named after a brainless rock, right?”  I add sarcastically.
“Redheads.  Love redheads.”  He chuckles, and then makes another note.  “How old are you, Tiger Lily?”
“It’s just Lily.”  I stare at the ceiling again so I won’t have to see his intense eyes looking at me.
“More like ‘Tiger’, if you ask me.  Feisty and fierce like a tiger, too.”
“I don’t know what that is.  Are you insulting me?”
“Insulting?  No.  A tiger is a large jungle cat.  Earth used to have many of them living on the continents of Africa and Asia, and also in zoos and wildlife rescues before climate change killed them.  Beautiful creatures.  No one messed with a tiger.  They were as deadly as they were lovely.”    His face changed from contemplative to vexed in a flash.  “That is, before oligarchs destroyed our world and, of course, before you greenies.”
“What do you want with me, Stone?”  I look at him again.  He stares back and my face heats up.  I can’t look away.
“You’re going to help save mankind, Tiger.”  Closing the folder, he stands up, looking larger than life.
“What?  What are you talking about?”  I begin to feel fear creep over me.
“Synthesis.  That’s what I’m talking about.  The combining of two elements together to create one new element.  I’ve been studying this for years now and we know that the offspring of a human and greenie creates a human that can breathe in any environment whether oxygen-rich or Co2-laden while maintaining human characteristics.  It’s the only way we have forward at this point.”
“What does that mean?  What the hell are you talking about?”  I try to sit up, but can’t manage it with my damn wrists tied down.
“It means, Tiger, …we’re going to make a baby.”  His words are ridiculous, but his eyes are dead serious.
“What!”  Panic grips me as I envision being forced to mate with some original human.  The fear must’ve shown in my eyes.  His face softens a bit.
“Don’t worry.  You won’t be forced to do anything you don’t want to do.  We’re not monsters.”  
“You just murdered about a dozen people.  Forgive me if I don’t trust in your assurances.”  My voice catches and gives away my escalating emotions.
“Your people murder mine every day on this new earth that they breathe.”  Shutters come down over his eyes masking his thoughts.  
“You just said you won’t force me to do anything, but you think I’m going to voluntarily ‘make a baby’ with one of your henchmen?”  My disgust and panic are clear.
He smiles.  “You misunderstand.  You won’t be doing anything with anyone ….except for me.  And yes, it’ll be voluntary.”
“How the hell do you come to that conclusion?  What makes you think I’d mate with you?”
The smile remains as he puts his hands on his hips looking quite confident.  “I’m charming.  No worries, Tiger.  I have every intention of seducing you.  You’ll be begging me to touch you.”
“That will never happen.  Never!”  I spit the words out, heat flushing my face as I stew in my anger.  I have to get out of here.  I have to get away from this man.  He’s dangerous.  Never mind that his voice is soothing while his gaze is exciting.  If he were green, then it might be a different tale, but he’s not.  He’s an original human, and they are not long for this world.  
“Never say never, Tiger.”  He begins to walk to a door that leads out of the room.  
“Stop calling me that!  You said earlier that you ‘knew’ that a human/greenie offspring could live in this world.  How do you even know?”
He turns back, pointing that steady gaze at me.  “Because we’ve already done this once.  It happened accidentally.  One of our people fell in love with a captive.  Stuff happened.  She got pregnant.  We didn’t even know our two species could mix.  The baby looks human, but she can breathe anywhere she happens to be.  That’s when we knew…”  
“If that’s so, then why not just let things happen naturally?  Why not just …?”  
“Because we don’t have the luxury of time.  Because your new government won’t let it happen ‘naturally’.  They’re killing us off.  Soon, there won’t be any original humans left.”  He’s angry.  Somewhere in the middle of his words, he walked back up to the glass and now looks like he might break it down with his bare hands.
I lay back and try to de-escalate his anger.  If he breaks the glass, I’ll suffocate before I can adapt.  
“That’s not true.  We’re not killing your kind.  You’re killing my kind!”   He shakes his head.  “What kind of crap are they telling you up there?  They’ve been slowly exterminating us for the past ten years.  They’ve been starving us, depriving us of water, oxygen, everything we need to survive.  We’ve only made it this far because of some smart folks we have who’ve managed to help us create an environment underground where we can live.  We’ve had to dig new tunnels and hide from your army of green thugs.  But you wouldn’t know about that, would you?  You wouldn’t know about the people down here just trying to get by day to day, breath to next breath.  We do what we have to in order to live.  Your people don’t have to do what they’re doing.  In our small numbers, we’re not a threat.  They could be helping, but instead, they’re killing us off with bunker busting bombs.  That’s why we’re so deep into the ground now.  Starving us didn’t quite do the trick so they sent in their weapons.  Well, honey.  We refuse to die just because you green bastards think you’re better than we are.  We’re going to survive and we’re going to do it by populating this planet with synthesized humans who will eventually outnumber the greenies.  Then your people will see what it feels like to be pushed aside and left for dead.  Oh yes, we’re going to make a baby, you and I.  And what’s more?  You’re going to enjoy the hell out of it!”  Stone turned and stomped off before I could think of anything to say.
It couldn’t be true, could it?  Were her people killing the original humans?  But why?  What for?  Damned if all this arguing hadn’t left me feeling tired.  Must be the after-effects of being punched in the head.  
That thought was my last as my eyes fluttered closed.  I’ll just sleep for now.  Gather my strength.  I have to think of a plan and get out of here before that crazy man tries to seduce me.  Seduce me!  Ha!  As if he could.
Part III
Eleven months have passed since my abduction.  I met Iris, the first original human/greenie hybrid child.  She’s a sweet little thing.  Looks completely human, but her internal organs – namely, her respiratory system – is a real piece of adaptive evolution.  She actually has two sets of lungs.  One that handles oxygen to carbon dioxide, and one that handles Co2 to oxygen.  Both sets are slightly smaller than original human lungs, but have larger individual alveoli – the sacs that fill with air.  Other, more complicated differences are involved at the cellular level where they can differentiate between the switch from oxygen to Co2, kind of like a fish being able to breathe out of water.  It’s amazing.  She can also photosynthesize even though she doesn’t appear ‘green’.  She still eats like a miniature horse, but if push came to shove, she could do without.  She really likes cookies.  
I met a lot of other original humans, too.  They’re pretty nice.  Their underground tunnels are an engineering marvel.  Artificial light has been strung in massive panels over man-made fields of vegetation, some of it food, and some of it various plants and trees to produce oxygen.  They water using underground streams tapped for irrigation.  It’s genius at work - a driving need to survive.  I’ve changed in the past eleven months, too.  I’m eight months pregnant with my first child.  Yea, Stone is more charming than I gave him credit for.  True to his word, he seduced me, but not like some hot, steamy romance novel.  No, sir.  He was just nice.  
He introduced me to the rest of the original humans residing underground.  He showed me how they survive, and taught me all about old earth.  He gave me books and magazines from the time before the Green War.  Old earth was cool! Why in the world did people let it be destroyed?  New York’s Times Square, apple orchards in Washington, Mardi Gras in New Orleans.  All of these things have disappeared either under water or burned down – casualties of climate change and war.
As I got to know about the world of original humans, and realized just what they lost, I could see Stone through new eyes.  He courted me – that’s what he called it.  We went on dates – of a sort.  We watched movies on some ancient relic called a VCR and television.  The Notebook.  Damn, that one made me cry.  We had dinners under the stars – artificial stars, but they were pretty.  We danced in the middle of the underground park filled with tropical trees and flowers.  In three months, we fell in love.  And you know what follows.  That was nice, too.  Really nice!  I admit I enjoyed it - do enjoy it, and as often as I can get him alone, but don’t tell Stone!  It makes his head bigger than it needs to be. 
Greenies and original humans are still having civil war, but it seems to have de-escalated since I came here.  With ‘Evolution’ being the new plan, war seems pointless.  Now, it just rests on time; the time it takes for green humans to be the new species populating earth, rebuilding society, cities, and hopefully not allowing greed to stand in the way of doing the right thing – namely, not further ruining earth.  In time, the environment can come back into balance, but it will take determination and focus on Mother Earth, not some oligarch’s wallet.  
As I look around, Stone is out in the wheat field with Fred and Rick, two original human farmers.  They’re assessing the crop for harvest.  It’ll be a good crop, one that will feed everyone and even have a surplus.  Nothing wrong with that because as soon as the field is harvested, it’ll be rotated, left to breathe a bit, and then replanted for the next round.  
Large fans circulate the air underground.  The breeze lifts my hair causing it to swirl around my face.  It feels good.  I take a deep breath, having become normalized to the heavier oxygenated atmosphere here.  Stone looks up and catches me watching him.  Our eyes meet, and he smiles that slow smile that finagled its way into my heart.  It’s the smile of love, of hope, and of a promising future.
This story is the result of “idea meets imagination gone wild”.  I recently ran a contest for the best original science fiction story ideas and ended up with not one, but two winners.  The deal was for contestants to come up with the idea, and I'd write the story.  Synthesis is the story idea from winner, Brea Behn, of Portage, Wisconsin.  Brea’s idea came from a dream she once had that was so cool, so compelling, she wrote it down in her dream journal.  Just goes to show how awesome dreams can be!  You can learn more about Brea Behn at her website, www.Breasbooks.com.  Her first book, a dystopian YA fiction is due out in May, 2014.  The story from winner number two coming soon…
Synthesis is an original story from Michele Gwynn.  It is protected by copyright and cannot be reproduced or reprinted without express permission from the author.  Synthesis © 2014. 

 

   

Beau Coup Publishing launches Vampire Princess Rising

Get your copy today! Click here to order.Now available on Amazon.com comes book II in the Winters saga by friend and author Jami Brumfield; Vampire Princess Rising .

The story continues with twin sister, Savannah Winters, whose life changed dramatically at the end of book I, Lone Wolf Rising, which centered around main character, sister Rebecca Winters.

VPR finds Savvy now reborn into a new life of sorts; that of the undead.  She is now unnaturally enthralled to her maker, Celestia, whom she despises, but not as much as she now despises her twin sister, Rebecca, for getting her killed in the first place.

Things heat up as natural enemies, the vampires and the werewolves, must work together to solve the mystery of who killed Elizabeth Winters, and who slaughtered Rebecca's pack.  This book is full of plot twists and turns you just won't see coming, and goes beyond the usual vampire/werewolf paradigm to include fantastical creatures and even alternate dimensions hiding in plain sight in Phoenix, Arizona.

It's a page turner worthy of your time, and a new favorite among fans of paranormal romance.  Just launched by Beau Coup Publishing and available on Amazon.com , I highly recommend this book.

Get yours today!

Congratulations to Jami Brumfield, my sweet, talented, and wonderful friend.  I couldn't be more proud.

Networking matters

As a writer, one thing I've discovered is that networking matters.  Now, this doesn't mean to go out and schmooze like a snake-oil salesman, but to be aware of who you meet, appreciative of every contact, and to treat them, always, with much respect.  Why?  Because you never know if one of those people you meet, from the ordinary fellow to the impressive CEO, might end up providing you with amazing information to share with others via your writing. 

Mind you, this is good advice for all forms of business. 

Since I began a career in writing back in 2006, I've built a long list of contacts from business owners to celebrities.  The funny thing is, I never consciously thought of them as contacts - simply remarkable people I've been fortunate to meet, interview, and/or feature in an article somewhere along the way.  I treat everyone I meet as a new friend, and I treat them equally whether or not they happen to be famous.  If they ever call on me for help utilizing my writing skills or perhaps just to hook them up with someone else I've sort of collected along he way, then the answer is always yes.  Heck, sometimes they don't even have to ask.  I just see what person A is doing and know person B is an expert so I play matchmaker (of a sort).  Most folks find this to be an unexpected blessing; good karma if you will.  The thing about good karma is that at some point in the future, it will find it's way back to you.

Some good karma visited me recently in the form of an invitation to a screening at Austin's South by Southwest Film Festival on March 7th.  Try and follow this stream - I interviewed actor Rudolf Martin several years back (I'm a big fan - he's an amazing character actor).  After that interview, I was introduced to his fan page administrator, Silke Beischl (a wonderful lady who I now call friend).  A movie that Mr. Martin had a cameo appearance in was debuting at SXSW and she suggested that I go.  Well, SXSW is one of those huge annual events where you have to buy a pass to get into the events and such and I couldn't see buying a big pass for one event, right?  She wasn't having any of that and contacted the gentleman who wrote the movie, Scott Fivelson . 

Scott invited me up and made sure I had a reserved seat so I grabbed my bestie and we took a little road trip from San Antonio to Austin.  It was an adventure, a sometimes-comedy-of-errors in which you discover that no matter how expensive your GPS happens to be, it's completely worthless when the heart of downtown Austin is blocked off.  Oh, if ever you go, forgo fashion and wear some comfortable shoes because you will be doing some serious walking.

Mission accomplished.  The movie, Three Holes, Two Brads, and a Smoking Gun was reviewed.  This led to a series of articles whereby I've had the pleasure of not only interviewing Scott Fivelson, but also a few of the incredible supporting cast (made up of veteran actors) such as
In the interim, my first review was featured on Film Industry Network, and the second review on Examiner.com.  A third with supporting cast commentary is coming soon to Yahoo Voices.

It's feeling like seven degrees of Kevin Bacon up in here!  Andt his was only part of my last ten days where contacts I've kept in network have found their way to my email.  Did I mention yet, a handsome gigolo?  No?

Well, yes!  The gorgeous Ash Armand from Showtime's hit series Gigolos reached out (I was privileged to interview him prior to his debut on Gigolos).  I opened my Twitter messages and saw "Hi, Beautiful!"  Who doesn't want to see that in their Twitter, I ask?  Ash recently wrote his first erotic romance eBook which was released out on Amazon.com through Vigliano Associates.  His fellow cast members, Nick Hawk (whom I've also had the pleasure of interviewing and who also did a fabulous photo shoot for FashionErorica Magazine while I was editor) and new gigolo Bradley Lords also wrote an erotic romance - all based on their very true and very personal experiences.  Hot stuff!

So I got to interview Ash about his book.  What better way to spend a Friday evening, yes?  By the way, he's truly a sweetheart and a gentleman.  You can check out his interview here:  Ash Armand's Sexoirs of a Gigolo Debuts on Amazon.com.

In the middle of all that, still more came through with the granting of an interview with a producer of another Indie film currently making the rounds at all the film festivals, but I won't reveal that one yet - not until it's complete. 

My point is pretty simple - first, make a good first impression!  Second, keep current with your contacts.  Now and again, say hello and/or check in to see what they are working on.  Maybe they could use some press?  Either way, let them know you appreciate them and are there should they need you - but not in stalker-ish kind of way, you know?  When you do that, when you do a good job and treat people right, those good vibes will come back to you and your network will grow...so will your circle of friends.   

You just never know where that next greeting, that next handshake will lead.

Earn some extra cash by writing your thoughts on Bubblews

Bubblews logo
Earn extra cash by writing your thoughts.  Sounds way too easy, right?  There must be a string attached or something more to it?  Not at all.

If you are one of those people who spends a great deal of time on social media sharing your thoughts, opinions, and personal stuff or if you want to become an online writer of articles and more and need the practice, then Bubblews is the place for you. 

Bubblews is a pretty simple site where you sign up for an account and you can begin 'bubbling' right away.  If you've made the connection between thoughts, thought bubbles, and Bubblews, then you're exactly right.  On Bubblews, you can write whatever is on your mind.

You don't need to be a trained journalist to write here.  It's basically a social media whereby ads are targeted to key words in your bubbles.  Those ads get seen by the folks who drop by your page to read your thoughts.  When someone drops by your page to view your stuff, you earn a few cents.  If someone clicks LIKE then you get a little more, and if people comment on your writing/musings, you also earn a few cents.  Bubblews shares ad revenue with it's bubblers at a rate of 50/50.  Not many sites do this. 

Still, you have to write.  You also have to connect with other users (you're considered connected when they connect back with you.  It's like friend requesting someone and them accepting your request).  In addition, you also earn when you make the effort to read other bubblers' writings/musings and commenting and liking their stuff. 

Like all online revenue shares, you have to make the effort to share what you write out onto other social media like Twitter, Facebook, or whatever sites you use.  The more people who see your Bubbles, the more you earn.  And it keeps earning as residual income. 

The rules are pretty simple.  Write.  Write more than 400 characters per bubble (that's about 75 words).  All your writing must be original and written by you.  If you add in a link to something you've written elsewhere (it must be your work you're connecting to), and you should write a brief summary of what that content happens to be (a summary that is NOT the same wording used in the article/piece because this confuses search engines and lowers rather than increases traffic to your work).  You cannot use foul language and the language used must be in English.  You cannot be abusive in any way to other bubblers or you'll be kicked off.  You cannot plagiarize the work of others.  The rules list is on the page when you sign up so make sure to give it a good read.

You can add images to your bubbles to make them more interesting.  People love pictures.  Always credit who/where you got the image from and make sure you have permission to use it.  Of course this means using pictures you, yourself, take is best.

You can "redeem" your earnings once you reach $50.  That redemption can be sent in the form of a check or can go to your paypal account.  I recommend having a paypal account as it's faster.  FYI, it takes approximately 10 days from the time you redeem to the time it hits your bank (once it lands in your paypal account, you have to withdraw it to your bank -- the sooner you do that, the better). 


So if you're looking for a way to earn a little extra cash doing what you do every day on social media, Bubblews is the answer.  It's great for college students, housewives, and those looking for a little extra money on the side.

You can check out my Bubblews page below and see how it's done.  Make sure to connect with me once you sign up! 

Michele Gwynn on Bubblews. 

Help an Author Out...

Authors Publish Magazine is holding a little contest on Facebook; write your memoir in 6 words or less.  So I did.  It reads "Was born uphill, and still climbing." 

There is only today to get in the votes, and you vote by finding my entry on their Facebook page and clicking LIKE.  So help an author out.  If you can relate to that line, click LIKE for me. 

I've provided the link to the page at the exact spot where you can find my entry.  Show some love and also enter if you wish to try your hand at a 6-word memoir of your life. 

Thanks for your support. 

Authors Publish Magazine Facebook Page 6-Word Memoir Contest